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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Shelf. 




UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




A 



^L. 



JANUARY" 



By H. W. McVICKAR 



XXIV BITS 



OF 



VERS DE SOCIETE 



With twelve full -page ilhtsti^ations by 

HfW. McVICKAR 

Together with numerous illustrations by 

other artists. 

EDITED BY t'^ 

FREDERICK A. STOKES 

Third Edition. 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS. 






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Copyright, 1890, 
By FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY. 





AA^<v,<^ ^"'|tJI»vwv 



CONTENTS. 



Sir John Suckliftg. . 

Wirit/irop M. Pi'aed. 



From **A BALLAD ON A WEDDING." 

From ''THE BELLE OF THE BALL-ROOM." 

THE SKATER BELLE. Samuel JMinhirn Peck. 

THE CONSTANT LOVER. Sir John Stickling. 

MABEL'S MUFF. Frederick Locker. . 

AN EPISODE. IVal/er Learned. . 

A STREET SKETCH. (Rondeau.) /. Ashby Sterry. 

A KISS IN THE RAIN. Samuel Minturn Peck. 

CUPID AT COURT. Samuel Minturn Peck. 

HER REQUIREMENTS. (Rondeau.' Frederick A. Stokes 

UNDER THE ROSE. (Triolets.) Samuel Minturn Peck 

A SWELL. (Ballade.) Fratik Dempster Sherman. 

DOLLIE. Samuel Minturn Peck. .... 

JULY (Virelai Nouveau). Austin Dobson. . 

ON NEWPORT BEACH. (Rondeau.) //. C. Bunner. 

MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS. Frederick Locker. 

THE "STAY-AT-HOME'S" PLAINT. George A. Baker. 

A VACATION VILLANELLE. Cotsford Dick. . 

ROTTEN ROW. Frederick Locker. 

From "A LETTER OF ADVICE. From Miss.Medora Trevilian, 
Araminta Vavasour, in London." Winthrop M. Praed. 

A COQUETTE. (Ballade.) Frank Dempster Sherman. 

TIME'S REVENGE. Walter Learned. ..... 

HER CHINA CUP. (Rondeau.) Frank Dempster Sherman, 

A RONDEAU TO ETHEL. Austin Dobson. 



AT Padua, to 



Miss 



PAGE 

I 

3 

9 

lo 

15 
16 
21 
22 

27 
29 

33 
35 

39 
41 

47 
49 
55 
58 
61 

63 
67 

69 
73 

75 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

The editor has much pleasure In expressing his thanks to 
(Mr. H. C. "B miner, (Mr. Walter Learned, T)r. Samuel (Mln- 
turn Tech, and (Mr. Frank T)empster Sherman, for their courtesy 
in granting permission for the use of their verses. ■ 

F. A. S. 

tJ^ew York, 

October, i8po. 



FROM "A BALLAD ON A WEDDING." 



HER feet beneath her petticoat, 
Like Httle mice, stole in and out, 
As if they feared the light : 
But O ! she dances such a way ! 
No sun upon an Easter-day 
Is half so tine a sight. 




Her cheeks so rare a white was on, 
No daisy makes comparison ; 

Who sees them is undone ; 
For streaks of red were mingled there 
Such as are on a Cath'rine pear. 

The side that's next the sun. 



FROM "A BALLAD ON A WEDDLVG." 



Her lips were red ; and one was thin, 
Compar'd to that was next her chin, 

Some bee had stun<j: it newly ; 
But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, 
I durst no more upon them gaze. 

Than on the sun in July. 

Her mouth so small when she does speak, 
Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break 

That they might passage get ; 
But she so handled still the mattei, 
They came as good as ours, or better, 

And are not spent a whit. 



Sir yohn Suckling. 



FROM ^'THE BELLE OF THE BALL-ROOM." 



I SAW her at the County Ball : 
There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle 
Gave signal sweet in that old hall 
Of hands across and down the middle, 
Hers was the subtlest spell by far 

Of all that set young hearts romancing ; 
She was our queen, our rose, our star ; 

And then she danced — O Heaven, her dancing ! 

Dark was her hair, her hand was white ; 

Hei _^ice was exquisitely tender; 
Her eyes were full of liquid light ; 

I never saw a waist so slender ! 
Her every look, her every smile, 

Shot right and left a score of arrows ; 
I thought 'twas Venus from her isle, 

And wonder'd where she'd left her sparrows. 

And she was flatter'd, worshipp'd, bored ; 

Her steps were watch'd, her dress was noted; 
Her poodle dog was quite adored, 

Her sayings were extremely quoted ; 
She laugh'd, and every heart was glad, 

As if the taxes were abolish'd ; 
She frown'd, and every look was sad, 

As if the Opera were demolish'd. 



FROM "THE BELLE OF THE BALL-ROOM.' 



She smiled on many, just for fun, — 
I knew that there was nothing- in it ; 

I was the first — the only one 

Her heart had thought of ior a minutCo- 




I knew it, for she told me so. 

In phrase which was divinely moulded ; 
She wrote a charming hand, — and oh ! 

How sweetly all her notes were folded ! 



Our love was like most other loves ; — 
A little glow, a little shiver, 

A rose-bud, and a pair of gloves. 

And " Fly not yet" — ^upon the river ; 



FROM "THE BELLE OF THE BALL-ROOM. 

Some jealousy of some one's heir, 

Some hopes of dying broken-hearted, 

A miniature, a lock of hair, 

The usual vows, — and then we parted. 

We parted ; months and years roU'd by ; 

We met again four summers after: 
Our parting was all sob and sigh ; 

Our meeting was all mirth and laughter: 
For in my heart's most secret cell 

There had been many other lodgers ; 
And she was not the ball-room's Belle, 

But only — Mrs. Something Rogers ! 



Winthrop M, Praed, 








FEBRUARY" 



By H. W. McVICKAR 



THE SKATER BELLE. 



ALONG the ice I see her fly 
With moonlit tresses blown awry, 
And floating from her twinkling feet 
Are wafted sounds as silvery sweet 
As April winds when May is nigh. 

Is it a Naiad coy and shy ? 
Or can it be the Lorelei 

Who lures me with her rare deceit? 

It is the hour for magic meet ; 
Resist the spell, 'twere vain to try. 

Her beauty thrills the earth and sky 
From glowing cheek and flashing eye ; 
And as she wanders fair and fleet 
The spangled branches bend to greet 
And wave a kiss as she goes by. 



SantJiel Minturn Peck. 



THE CONSTANT LOVER. 




OUT upon it, I have lov'd 
Three whole days together ; 
And am Hke to love three more,- 
If it prove fair weather. 

Time shall moult away his wings, 

Ere he shall discover 
In the whole wide world again 

Such a constant lover. 




THE CONSTANT LOVER. i i 



But the spite on't is, no praise 

Is due at all to me ; 
Love with me had made no stays 

Had it any been but she. 

Had it any been but she, 

And that very face, 
There had been at least ere this 

A dozen dozen in her place ! 



Sir JoJm Suckling. 




"MARCH" 

By H. W. McVICKAR. 



MABEL'S MUFF. 

SHE'S jealous ! Does it grieve me ? No! 
I'm glad to see my Mabel so, 
Carina mi a I 
Poor Puss ! That now and then she draws 
Conclusions, not without a cause, 
Is my idea. 

She loves ; and Fm prepared to prove 
That jealousy is kin to love 

In constant women. 
My jealous Pussy cut up rough 
The day before I bought her muff 

With sable trimming. 

These tearful darlings think to quell us 
By being so divinely jealous ; 

But I know better. 
Hillo ! Who's that } A damsel ! Come, 
rU follow : — no, I can't, for some 

One else has met her. 

What fun ! He looks " a lad of grace," 
She holds her muff to hide her face ; 

They kiss, — The Sly Puss ! 
Hillo ! ller muff, — it's trimm'd with sable I 
It's like the muff I gave to Mabel ! . . . 

Goodl-o-r-d, SHE'S MY PUSS! 



Frederick Locker. 



V 



AN EPISODE. 

ITH never a word she passed me by, 
With never a look or sign ; 

She silently went her way, and I 
As silently went on mine. 




No one could have dreamed who saw her face, 

As we so coldly met, 
That her heart was touched by the faintest trace 

Of memory or refxret. 



AN EPISODE. 17 



Nor do I think that one apart 

Who watched my tranquil brow, 
Would have guessed that the memory stirred my heart 

Of a faithless, broken vow. 

And they need not have guessed or wondered, you see, 

For this was the reason why — 
I didn't know her, and she didn't know me, 

And so — she passed me by. 



Walter Learned. 





k'e.*- 



"APRIL" 

Bv H. W. AIcVICKAR. 



A STREET SKETCH. 

(rondeau.) 

UPON the Kerb, a maiden neat — 
Her hazel eyes are passing sweet — 
There stands and waits in dire distress 
The muddy road is pitiless, 
And 'busses thunder down the street ! 

A snowy skirt, all frills and pleat ; 
Two tiny, well-shod, dainty feet 

Peep out, beneath her kilted dress, 

Upon the Kerb. 

She'll first advance and then retreat, 
Half-frightened by a hansom fleet. 

She looks around, I must confess, 
With marvellous coquettishness ! — 
Then droops her eyes and looks discreet, 

Upon the Kerb ! 



y. Ashby Stej^ry. 



A KISS IN THE RAIN. 



ONE stormy morn I chanced to meet 
A lassie in the town ; 
Her locks were like the ripened wheat, 
Her laup^hins: eves were brown. 
I watched her as she tripped along 

Till madness filled my brain, 
And then — and then — I know 
'twas wrong — 
1 kissed her in the rain ! ..^ 



With rain-drops shining on her cheek, 

Like dew-drops on a rose, 
The little lassie strove to speak 

My boldness to oppose ; 
She strove in vain, and quivering 

Her finger stole in mine ; 
And then the birds began to sing, 

The sun began to shine. 




Oh, let the clouds grow dark above, 
My heart is light below ; 

'Tis always summer when we love, 
However winds may blow ; 



A KISS IN THE RAIN. 23 



And I'm as proud as any prince, 

All honors I disdain : 
She says I am her 7^ain beau since 

I kissed her in the rain. 



Saimcel Mintumi Peck. 



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"MAY" 

By H. W. McVICKAR, 



CUPID AT COURT. 



YOUNG Cupid strung his bow one day, 
And sallied out for sport ; 
As country hearts were easy prey 
Odds Darts ! he went to court. 




!?*"• 
'f''^ 



d 



Of all that wore the puff and patch, 

Belinda led the fair : 
With falbala, and fan to match, 

I trow she made him stare ! 



2^ CUPID AT COURT. 



" Oho! " he cried, and quickly drew 

His bow upon the sly ; — 
But though he pierced her bosom through, 

She never breathed a sis^h ! 



'■i=>' 



This was a turn, beyond a doubt, 
That filled him with amaze, 

And so he sought his mother out, 
With tear-bewildered gaze. 

" You silly boy," Dame Venus said, 
'* Why did you waste your art ? 

Go clip your curls and hide your head,- 
Belinda has no heart ! " 



Sainuel Minturn Peck. 



A 



HER REQUIREMENTS. 

(rondeau.) 

LOVER'S sighs, said laughinor Belle, 
iMust with such pain and ardor swell 
That I shall fear his life will end, 
Unless a fav'ring ear I lend. 



Ah, sighs, not words, his love must tell ! 

And they must hind me with a spell, 
And must he deep and sad as well, — 
All this, if /am to commend 
A lover's eyes. 

^'et it will all the charm dispel, 
And ring at once love's funeral knell, 
If he's too small with me to wend ; 
For sighs and eyes can not amend, 
Nor hetter, hy an inch or ell, 
A lover's size. 



Fi^ederick A. Stokes, 








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A^ ■l^' 



"JUNE" 

By H. W. McVICKAR 



UNDER THE ROSE. 

(triolets.) 

HE {aside). 

F I should steal a little kiss, 
Oh, would she weep, I wonder? 
I tremble at the thought of bliss,- 
If I should steal a little kiss ! 
Such pouting lips would never miss 

The dainty bit of plunder ; 
If I should steal a little kiss, 

Oh, would she weep, I wonder ? 

SHE {aside). 

He longs to steal a kiss of mine — 

He may, if he'll return it : 
If I can read the tender sign. 
He longs to steal a kiss of mine , 
"In love and war" — you know the line 

Why cannot he discern it ? 
He longs to steal a kiss of mine — 

He may if he'll return it. 

BOTH (yfive minutes later). 

A little kiss when no one sees, 

Where is the impropriety ? 
How sweet amid the birds and bees 



34 



UNDER THE ROSE. 



A little kiss when no one sees ! 
Nor is it wrong, the world agrees, 




If taken with sobriety. 
A little kiss when no one sees, 
Where is the impropriety ? 



Samitel Minturn Peck. 



A SWELL. 

(ballade.) 

HIS forehead he fringes and decks 
With carefully cut Montagues ; 
He angles his arms semi-X, 
And dresses in delicate hues ; 
His haunts are the rich avenues; 




Staccato is somewhat his gait ; 

It takes but a wink to amuse 
His sadly impoverished pate. 



A SWELL. 

His costumes are covered with checks ; 

tie travels in taper-toed shoes 
Through Vanity Fair, there to vex 

The silly young heart that he wooes ; 

He's clever with cards and with cues, 
And banters with Fortune and Fate : 

Alas, that the lad cannot lose 
His sadly impoverished pate ! 

He's fond of the frivolous sex ; 

His liofht conversation he strevv^ 
With " toffy," — aught else would perplex 

The topic his fancy pursues ; 

The cud of contentment he chews. 
While women and wealth on him wait ; 

And nature with nothing endues 
His sadly impoverished pate. 

KNVOY. 

Fair princesses, all who peruse 
This ballad, beware ere too late, 

Lest Opulence hear y 021 abuse 
His sadly impoverished pate ! 



Frank Dempster Sherman, 





_7 



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^- 






"JULY" 

Hy H. W. McV^ICKAR, 



DOLLIE. 



SH E sports a witching gown 
With a ruffle up and down 
On the skirt. 
She is gentle, she is shy; 
But there's mischief in her eye, 
She's a flirt ! 

She displays a tiny glove, 
And a dainty little love 

Of a shoe ; 
And she wears her hat a-tilt 
Over bangs that never wilt 

In the dew. 

*Tis rumored chocolate creams 
Are the fabric of her dreams — 

But enough ! 
I know beyond a doubt 
That she carries them about 

In her muff. 

With her dimples and her curls 
She exasperates the girls 

Past belief: 
They hint that she's a cat, 
And delightful things like that 

In their grief. 



40 



DOLLIE. 




It Is shocking, I declare! 
But what does Dollie care 

When the beaux 
Come flocking to her feet 
Like the bees around a sweet 

Little rose? 



Samuel Minium Peck, 



JULY. 



G 



(VIRELAI NOUVEAU.) 

OOD-BYE to the Town !— good-bye 
Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky ! 




In the street the flower-girls cry ; 
In the street the water-carts ply ; 
And a fluter, with features a-wry, 
Plays fitfully, " Scots, wha hae" — 
And the throat of that fluter is dry ; 
Good-bye to the Town ! — good-bye ! 



42 JULY. 



And over the roof-tops nigh 

Comes a waft Lke a dream of the May; 

And a lady-bird lit on my tie ; 

And a cock-chafer came with the tray ; 

And a butterfly (no one knows why) 

Mistook my Aunt's cap for a spray ; 

And " next door" and " over the way" 

The neighbors take wing and fly : 

Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky ! 

To Buxton, the waters to try, — 

To Buxton goes old Mrs. Bligh ; 

And the Captain to Homburg and play 

Will carry his cane and his eye ; 

And even Miss Morgan Lefay 

Is flitting — to far Peckham Rye ; 

And my Grocer has gone — in a " Shay," 

And my Tailor has gone — in a " Fly;" — • 

Good-bye to the Town ! — good-bye ! 

And it's O for the sea and the sky ! 
And it's O for the boat and the bay ! 
For the white foam whirling by, 
And the sharp, salt edge of the spray ! 
For the wharf where the black nets fry, 
And the wrack and the oarweed sway ! 
For the stroll when the moon is high 
To the nook by the Flag-house gray ! 
For the risus ab angulo shy 
From the Some-one we designate *' Di ! " 
For the moment of silence,— the sigh ! 
" How I dote on a Moon ! " " So do I ! " 
For the token we snatch on the sly 



JULY. 43 



(With nobody there to say Fie !) 
Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky ! 

So PhilHs, the fawn-footed, hie 
For a hansom. Ere close of the day 
Between us a " world" must lie, — 
Good-bye to the Town ! — good-bye ! 
Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky! 



Austin Dobson, 






r> 








AUGUST" 



By H. W. McVICKAR 



ON NEWPORT BEACH 

(rondeau.) 

ON Newport beach there ran right merrily, 
In dainty navy blue clothed to the knee, 
Thence to the foot in white au natttrel, 
A little maid. Fair was she, truth to tell, 
As Oceanus' child Callirrhoe. 




'^^-^afM*?^ 



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....jiia^aAAM^iesA 



4S ON NEWPORT BEACH. 



In the soft sand lay one small shell, its wee 
Keen scallops tinct with faint hues, such as be 
In girlish cheeks. In some old storm it fell 

On Newport Beach. 

There was a bather of the species hc^ 

Who saw the little maid go toward the sea ; 

Rushing to help her through the billowy swell, 

He set his sole upon the little shell, 
And heaped profanely phrased obloquy 

On Newport Beach. 

//. C Bunner 



MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS. 

She has dancing eyes and ricby lips, 
Delightful boots — and away she skips. 

THEY nearly strike me dumb,- 
I tremble when they come 
Pit-a-pat : 
This palpitation means 
These Boots are Geraldine's — 
Think of that ! 

O, where did hunter win 
So delicate a skin 

For her feet ? 
You lucky little kid, 
You perish'd, so you did, 

For my Sweet. 

The faery stitching gleams 
On the sides, and in the seams, 

And reveals 
That the Pixies were the wags 
Who tipt these funny tags, 

And these heels. 

What soles to charm an elf ! — 
Had Crusoe, sick of self, 
Chanced to view 



50 



MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS. 



One printed near the tide, 
O, how hard he would have tried 
For the two I 




For Gerry's debonair, 
And innocent and fair 

As a rose ; 
She's an Angel in a frock, 
She's an Angel with a clock 

To her hose! 



The simpletons who squeeze 
Their pretty toes to please 
Mandarins, 



MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS. 5f 

Would positively flinch 
From venturing to pinch 
Geraldine's. 

Cinderella's lefts and rights 
To Geraldine's were frights: 

And I trow 
The Damsel, deftly shod 
Has dutifully trod 

Until now. 

Come, Gerry, since it suits 
Such a pretty Puss (in Boots) 

These to don, 
Set your dainty hand aw^hile 
On my shoulder, Dear, and I'll 

Put them on. 

Frederick Locker, 




"SEPTEMBER 



/^p, 
>^l^ 



By H. W. McVICKAR. 



THE "STAY-AT-HOME'S" PLAINT. 

THE Spring has grown to Summer; 
The sun is fierce and high ; 
The city shrinks, and withers 
Beneath the burning sky. 
Ailantus trees are fragrant, 

And thicker shadows cast, 
Where berry-girls, with voices shrill, 
And watering carts go past. 

In offices like ovens 

We sit without our coats ; 
Our cuffs are moist and shapeless 

No collars bind our throats. 
W^e carry huge umbrellas 

On Broad Street and on Wall, 
Oh, how thermometers go up ! 

And, oh, how stocks do fall ! 
Along the scented hedge-rows, 

Among the green old trees, 
Are blooming city faces 

'Neath rosy-lined pongees. 

They're cottaging at Newport ; 

They're bathing at Cape May ; 
In Saratoga's ball-rooms 

They dance the hours away. 



56 



THE ''STAY-AT HOME'S" PLAINT. 



Their voices through the quiet 

Of haunted Catskill break ; 
Or rouse those dreamy dryads, 

The nymphs of Echo Lake. 

The hands we've led through Germans, 

And squeezed, perchance, of yore, 
Now deftly grasp the bridle, 

The mallet, and the oar. 
The eyes that wrought our ruin 
On other men look down ; 

We're but the broken play- 
things 
They've left behind in 
town. 

The nights are full of mu- 
sic. 

Melodious Teuton troops 
Beguile us, calmly smoking, 
On balconies and stoops. 
With eyes half-shut, and dreamy, 

We watch the fire-flies' spark, 
And image far-off faces. 
As day dies into dark. 




The avenue is lonely. 

The houses choked with dust ; 
The shutters, barred and bolted. 

The bell-knobs all a-rust. 
No blossom-like Spring dresses, 

No faces young and fair, 
From " Dickel's" to ' The Brunswick," 

No promenader there. 



THE ** STAY-AT-HOME'S" PLAINT. 57 

The girls we used to walk with 

Are far away, alas ! 
The feet that kissed its pavement 

Are deep in country grass. 
Oh, happy Gran'dame Nature, 

Whose wandering children come 
To light with happy faces 

The dear old mother-home, 
Be tender with our darlings, 

Each merrv maiden bears 
Such love and longing with her — 

Men's lives are wrapped in theirs. 

Georo;e A. Baker, 



A VACATION VILLANELLE. 




HALCYON hours of happy holiday, 
When frets of function and of fashion 
flee 
(Sweet is the sunshine, soft the summer's sway). 
Ye whisper " welcome" to our wandering way, 

And give a gracious greeting to our glee, 
O halcyon hours of happy holiday ! 

Or pacing prairies in pursuit of prey, 
Or sailing silent on a southern sea 

(Sweet is the sunshine, soft the summer's sway), 

Or gliding giddy down some glacier gray, 
Or joining in a German jubilee, 

O halcyon hours of happy holiday ! 



We l)reathe such buoyant bliss that we betray 
Our sportive spirits strangely — sans souci 

Sweet is the sunshine, soft the summer's sway, 

And dear the dreaming of these days distraits 
We find we ye, so faineants and free, 

O halcyon hours of happy holiday ! 

Cotsford Dick, 




OCTOBER" 



By H. W. McVICKAR, 



ROTTEN ROW. 



I HOPE I'm fond of much that s good, 
As well as much that's gay ; 
I'd like the country if I could ; 
I love the Park in May : 
And when I ride in Rotten Row, 
I wonder why they call'd it so. 



A lively scene on turf and road ; T 

The crowd is bravely drest : j 

The Ladies Mile has overflowed. 
The chairs are in request : 

The nimble air, so soft, so clear, 

Can hardly stir a ringlet here. 

I'll halt beneath those pleasant trees — 

And drop my bridle-rein, 
And, quite alone, indulge at ease 
The philosophic vein : 

I'll moralize on all I see — 
Yes, it was all arranored for me ! 




Forsooth, and on a livelier spot 
The sunbeam never shines. 

Fair ladies here can talk and trot 
With statesmen and divines : 

Could I have chosen, I'd have been 

A Duke, a Beauty, or a Dean. 



62 ROTTEN ROW. 



What grooms ! What gallant gentlemen ! 

What well-appointed hacks ! 
What glory in their pace, and then 

What Beauty on their backs ! 
My Pegasus would never flag 
If weighted as my Lady's nag. 

But where is now the courtly troop 
That once rode laughing by ? 

I miss the curls of Cantilupe, 
The laugh of Lady Di : 

They all could laugh from night to morn, 

And Time has laugh'd them all to scorn. 

I then could frolic in the van 
With dukes and dandy earls ; 

Then I was thought a nice young man 
By rather nice young girls ! 

I've half a mind to join Miss Browne, 

And try one canter up and down. 

Ah, no — ril linger here awhile, 

And dream of days of yore ; 
For me bright eyes have lost the smile, 

The sunny smile they wore : — 
Perhaps they say, what I'll allow. 
That I'm not quite so handsome now. 



Frederick Lncker 



FROM "A LETTER OF ADVICE. 

From Miss Medora Jrevzliati, at Padua, to Miss Araminta Vaimsoier in London." 

YO LI tell me you're promised a lover, \ 

My own Araminta, next week ; 
Why cannot my fancy discover 
The hue of his coat and his cheek? 
Alas ! if he look like another, 

A vicar, a banker, a beau, 
Be deaf to your father and mother, 
My own Araminta, say " No !" 

O think of our favorite cottage. 

And think of our dear Lalla Rookh ! 
How we shared with the milkmaids their pottage, 

And drank of the stream from tlie brook ; 
How fondly our loving lips falter'd 

" What further can grandeur bestow ?" 
My heart is the same ; — is yours alter'd ? 

My own Araminta, say " No !" 

If he wears a top-boot in his wooing, 

If he comes to you riding a cob. 
If he talks of his baking or brewing, 

If he puts up his feet on the hob, 
If he ever drinks port after dinner. 

If his brow or his breeding is low, 
If he calls himself " Thompson" or " Skinner," 

My own Araminta, say " No !" 



64 



A LETTER OF ADVICE. 



If he Studies the news in the papers 

While you are preparing the tea, 
If he talks of the damps or the vapors 

While moonlight lies soft on the sea, 
If he's sleepy, while you are capricious. 

If he has not a muscial " Oh !" 
If he does not call Werther delicious, — 

My own Araminta, say " No !" 

If he speaks of a tax or a duty, 

If he does not look grand on his knees, 
If he's hlind to a landscape of beauty, 

Hills, valleys, rocks, waters, and trees. 
If he dotes not on desolate towers, 

If he likes not to hear the blasts blow. 
If he knows not the language of flowers, — 

My own Araminta, say "No !" 

He must walk — like a god of old story 
Come down from the home of his rest, 
He must smile — like the sun in his glory 

On the buds he loves ever the best ; 
And oh ! from its ivory portal 

Like music his soft speech must flow ! — 
If he speak, smile, or walk like a mortal, 
My own Araminta, say " No !" 




Winthrop M. Praed, 



Mf 





'NOVEMBER 



By H. W. McVlCKAR. 



. . .J 



A COQUETTE. 

(ballade.) 



SHE wears a most bewitching bang, — 
Gold curls made captive in a net ; 
Her dresses with precision hang ; 
Her hat observes the stylish set ; 
She has a poodle for a pet, 
And drives a dashing drag and pony : 

I know it, though we've never met, — 
I've seen her picture by Sarony. 

Her phrases all are fraught with slang. 

The very latest she can get ; 
She sings the songs that Patience sang, 
. Can whistle airs from " Olivette," 
And, in a waltz, perhaps, might let 
You squeeze her hand, with gems all 
stony : 

I know it, though we've never met, — 
I've seen her picture by Sarony. 







Her heart has never felt love's pang. 

Nor know^n a momentary fret ; 
Want never wounds her with his fang; 

She likes to run Papa in debt ; 

She'll smoke a slender cigarette 
Sub rosa with a favored crony : 

I know it, though we've never met,- 
I've seen her picture by Sarony. 



68 A COQUETTE. 



ENVOY. 



Princes, beware this gay coquette ! 

She has no thoughts of matrimony : 
I know it, though we've never met, — 

I've seen her picture by Sarony. 



Frank Dempster Sherman, 



V 



TIME'S REVENGE. 



HEN I was ten and she fifteen — 
Ah, me, how fair I thought her ! 
She treated with disdainful mien 



The homage that I brought her. 
And, in a patronizing way, 
Would of my shy advances say : 

" It's really quite absurd, you see ; 

He's very much too young for me.'* 

I'm twenty now, she twenty-five — 
Well, well ! how old she's growing ! 

I fancy that my suit might thrive 
If pressed again ; but owing 

To great discrepancy in age. 

Her marked attentions don't engage 
My young affections, for, you see. 
She's really quite too old for me. 



Walter Learned. 




( ( 



DECEMBER" 



By H. W. McVICKAR, 



HER CHINA CUP. 



H 



(rondeau.) 

ER china cup is white and thin ; 
A thousand times her heart has been 
Made merry at its scalloped brink ; 
And in the bottom, painted pink, 

A dragon greets her with a grin. 







"^fe 



72 HER CHINA CUP. 



The brim her kisses loves to win ; 
The handle is a manikin, 

Who spies the foes that chip or chink 

Her china cup. 

Muse, tell me if it be a sin : 

I watch her lift it past her chin 

Up to the scarlet lips and drink 

The Oolong draught, somehow I think 

I'd like to be the dragon in 

Her china cup. 

Frank Dempster Sherman, 



A RONDEAU TO ETHEL. 



N teacup-times !" The style of dress 
AVould suit your beauty, 1 confess ; 

BELiNDA-like, the patch you'd wear; 
I picture you with powdered hair, — - 
Yoii'd make a charming Shepherdess 1 




And I — no doubt — could well express 
Sir Plume's complete conceitedness, — 
Could poise a clouded cane with care 
" In teacup-times ! " 



74 A RONDEAU TO ETHEL. 

The parts would fit precisely — yes : 
We should achieve a huge success ! 
You should disdain and I despair, 
With quite the true Augustan air; 
But . . . could T love you more, or less,- 
. " In teacup-times?" 



Austin Dobson. 



